A boy and his dog. A simple phrase that conjures Norman Rockwell paintings of The Good Old Days.
A boy throwing a stick and his dog fetching it. A boy teaching his dog to shake hands. A boy and his dog asleep huddled together on the back seat of a car on a long trip.
Bradford and I were taking a walk out in the county near Gainesville. By chance we met a farmer (more…)
No, I did not intend to say “The Days of Wine and Roses.” This is my way of saying that I live down South and things have been going pretty well.
First of all, I must thank the Lord for my good fortune. I am thankful for being born in the United States of America. What a blessing!
I was born in a three-room shack in (more…)
When our son Bradford was about 2½ half years old we lived on Mount Olive Drive. We had a nice shady backyard with a little branch (that’s what we called a small creek back in the mountains of Western North Carolina) running through the back side of the lot. When it rained, a lot of water rushed down this little stream.
The yard on the other side of the creek had never been developed, since to gain access to this area you’d have to (more…)
Apples grow well in the mountains of Western North Carolina. The climate is favorable with plentiful rain and weather that is not too hot in the summers. The success of Barber’s Orchard, a large operation that has been a hallmark in Haywood County for about 83 years can attest to the above.
With bountiful crops of apples and the need for fruit in the winter, pioneer families found a way to bring (more…)
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Gentry’s store sits forlorn and rejected at the intersection of Octoc Road and Robinson Road, only a short distance from Starkville, Mississippi. The metal roof is rusty and the Chevron gas tanks are empty, but the counters remain inside the building, along with the shelves on the walls.
This little store building is a survivor, bearing witness to another era, a different culture. Most of these country stores are long gone, but (more…)
During my high school years, our family attended The First Methodist Church of Waynesville. It was a relatively large church with an upscale congregation. Not everyone had a lot of money but they were generally better off than the average citizen in the area.
Dad was required to dress in coat and tie, usually a suit to fulfill the job responsibilities as a school principal. He, of course, wore (more…)